The Untold Tekken Story: Ascension
by JunKing
Summary: A rewrite of my Untold Trilogy, Peter is inspired by Heihachi Mishima to change his life and prove himself to his abusive father. He enters the 3rd Iron Fist Tournament, beginning a journey that will change his life forever. King, Jun, Julia, Heihachi


Chapter 1: Purpose

"You can sit idly and watch as the world passes you by, or you can choose to stand up and take your future into your own hands."

All eyes were on Heihachi Mishima, one of the most influential men in the world. With his vast resources and power, his voice was one that everyone heard. The older man stood in the center of a high school auditorium in the United States, New York to be precise. Being a prominent donator to schools across the globe, he would take time to visit different locations in order to promote higher learning as well as keep a clean image of himself in the eye of the public. Today was one such day where he put on another show for the cameras. Underneath the surface, Heihachi used his company to experiment in various genetic sciences. However, not many knew about his Zaibatsu's true practices.

The students in the auditorium had mixed reactions to his speech. Several of them joked quietly among themselves about his hairstyle, his age, and anything else they could think of to pass the time. Some others played on their cell phones or snuck off to the cafeteria when no one was looking. Some students gave deep thought and consideration into what the man was speaking about. One of these students was named Peter. At eighteen years of age, he was one of the few who hadn't selected a college to attend just yet. While his peers moved forward, he seemed to feel stranded in one place. Heihachi's words about the future and taking charge resonated deep within his mind. His dark brown eyes hardly blinked as he watched the man speak. His ears blocked out everything around him besides the speech being given. As Heihachi concluded, Peter rested his fist against his face.

"You actually paid attention to all that?" Snapping the young man out of his trance, Peter realized that the voice belonged to one of his best friends, Tiffanie. They had known each other since Junior High, having gone through many changes and experiences together. The young black woman sitting next to him continued to speak.

"That whole thing was boring as hell." she said. Peter laughed to himself, drumming his fingers against the slightly pale skin on his face.

"I guess." His words sounded unconvincing to Tiffanie. She knew he was lying to appease her. Then again, she understood why he would find Heihachi's words so mesmerizing. Unlike her friend, she had chosen to attend a University in the city and graduation was fast approaching. Peter reached for his books as students began to clear the large area. Tiffanie noticed that he seemed to be hesitating, looking as if he was contemplating something. If there was one thing she knew, it was the face Peter always made when he was thinking.

"What's up?" she asked, hoping to hear what was on his mind. He looked over to her, then back to Heihachi. He threw one last look at Tiffanie before speaking.

"It's nothing. Do you want to head out?" Tiffanie nodded at his words and turned to leave. However, she stopped upon realizing that her friend was not following her. She turned back to see him standing in the same spot, looking off in Heihachi's direction.

"Pete?"

"Actually, hey Tiff would you mind holding these for a second please?" Peter handed her his books and then took off down the stairs towards the old man. _Not a problem_, she thought to herself. Making his way through the crowd of students, Peter approached the table that Heihachi was sitting at. His pace slowed with each step he took. The man was busy speaking to his assistant, most likely regarding his busy schedule. After what seemed like an eternity, the brown haired young man took a breath and started to speak.

"Excuse me, Mr. Mishima?" The man turned at the boy's words and looked him up and down. The person standing before him looked average. He had a decent body, short hair, stood taller than most of his peers, and seemed very quiet. There was something else that he picked up on. He felt a strong spirit and determination radiating off of him, only it would seem the boy didn't yet know it. Faking a smile, he offered his hand out to him.

"And you are?"

"I'm sorry to bother you. My name is Peter." With that, he shook the man's hand and did his best to match his grip. "I just wanted to tell you that I felt very inspired by everything you said."

"Well thank you very much, Peter", Heihachi said with a hearty laugh. "It is all true. Young people today have the power to change many things in this world. It just takes the braves ones time to realize that they have that potential. What about you, Peter? Do you think you have that potential?" His words seemed to throw Peter off for a quick second, but he noticed a fast recovery.

"I hope so, sir." As soon as the words left Peter's lips, he wished he could take them back. He wanted to look as confident as possible in front of the man. Heihachi smiled once again and with his thick Japanese accent, began to speak.

"Well, Peter, I'm sure you will find out soon enough." Just then, Tiffanie appeared behind Peter and nudged his arm. That was his cue to leave.

"Well I have to go but thank you again Mr. Mishima, it was nice to meet you in person." Heihachi once again shook his hand and nodded with a smile. As Peter turned to leave, he couldn't help but overhear one of Heihachi's assistants mention the next King of Iron Fist Tournament.

"Sir, we have to make sure we remain on schedule if we are to continue promoting the Iron Fist tournament." said the older business woman. Heihachi grunted and told her that they had the rest of the week in town for that.

"What was that all about, Pete?" Tiffanie's question brought Peter back to reality. He turned to her, grabbed his books and smiled.

"Just wanted to meet him up close. He's hosted those martial arts tournaments from years back. There's going to be a third one coming up next year." he said.

"You do realize that those were like…twenty years ago or something right?" Her response gained a laugh from Peter as they made their way out of the auditorium and towards the school's exit.

"Yeah, I know. I've seen them both on TV though when I was younger. I'm kind of excited to see the new one. Anyways, I'm off. Catch you later?"

"Okay, sounds good. Make sure to keep track of time." she replied. After saying their goodbyes, Peter began to leave the school grounds and walk towards his home. The thing was, he wasn't actually going home. He was going to his martial arts training. Since he was thirteen years of age, he found someone who would teach him how to fight. This person was actually his old gym teacher from Junior High. As Peter walked, he remembered how these lessons were first offered to him.

It was an average day just like all the rest. Peter was never really athletic or into sports and most of his peers found this an amusing outlet to use against him. Those forty-five minute sessions of gym class always seemed to go on for hours. Peter would just watch the clock and hope that time would go by faster. It rarely ever did. There was one day in particular where the instructor, Haitz, observed a student throw a basketball into Peter's face while playing. He played it off as an accident, but Haitz knew better. After class, he approached the boy.

"Peter, why do you let these kids treat you like that?" he asked. The then thirteen year old looked up, shocked at the question, but responded honestly.

"Because they're stronger than me." he replied. "And I don't know how to fight back." Peter's words struck a nerve with Haitz. He thought for a second, knowing he could get in trouble with the school for what he was about to offer. After a second thought, he decided to just go ahead and ask him.

"Peter, I run a dojo after school. If you want, you can have your parents bring you and I will teach you how to defend yourself." Haitz noticed the way Peter hesitated to respond for a few seconds.

"I…don't think my parents would think that was such a good idea."

"If its money they'd be worried about, tell them not to. I would teach you for free."

"It's not the money. It's just…well my father is kind of strict." said Peter, eyes remaining on the floor in front of him. Haitz knew when to back off, but he wanted the kid to know that he had a choice.

"I see. Well I wouldn't want you to do anything that was going to get you into trouble. Just know that if you ever change your mind, you are more than welcome to stop by. My offer won't expire." That said, Haitz helped Peter stand back on his feet before leaving the gymnasium. Little did he know, Peter stood in that exact spot and thought heavily about the offer. The next day, he went to the dojo and told Haitz that he was ready.

_ 'I can't believe that its been five years already_'. thought Peter as he now approached the dojo. The first time he showed up here, he was a nervous little boy. He'd lied to his father, told him that he was staying after school for various clubs. Once he'd gotten into high school, he then lied and said he had joined the school newspaper. Thankfully, his father was always too drunk to bother asking to see a single article he'd written in said club. Ending his trip down memory lane, Peter opened the door to the dojo and walked in.

"Hey, Mr. Haitz! Sorry I'm late."

"Peter, I'm glad you were able to make it. For a few minutes, I thought you weren't going to show." Haitz said playfully as Peter placed all his belongings on the ground and changed his shoes.

"I wouldn't ditch unless it was an emergency. Or maybe if I won the lottery". All jokes aside, Peter dropped into his stance. One fist in front of the other, he waited for Haitz to make a move. The thirty-something year old man lunged at him, spinning around with a kick that was meant for his stomach. Instinctively, Peter blocked the kick and retaliated with one of his own; barely missing Haitz's jaw.

"Good." said Haitz as he circled around the young man. Without hesitation, Peter threw a firm punch towards his mentor. Seeing this as a good opportunity, Haitz moved to the side, avoiding the attack. Grabbing Peter's wrist, he spun him around and pushed against the back of his shoulder; forcing him to his knee. Looking down, Peter sweep-kicked the legs right out from underneath Haitz. Once he rose to his feet, he found himself dodging a flash of well placed kicks and punches. After a palm thrust into Peter's chest, Haitz rolled to the side of his opponent, hoping to spin around and grab him in a headlock. He was greeted with an axe kick to the neck before he could even stand up. Taking a step back, he smiled while holding his neck.

"Your reflexes are getting a lot better nowadays. Pretty soon, you might not need me to teach you anything anymore." Peter dropped his stance and laughed upon hearing the statement.

"Thanks. Just been trying to stay focused lately."

"It shows, Peter. I'm proud of your progress through the years." The two sparred for another twenty minutes or so before finishing up.

"Heihachi Mishima was at my school today." said Peter, sipping from his water bottle.

"That's right, I heard he was in town. You know he has another King of Iron Fist Tournament taking place?" Haitz noted the glimmer in Peter's eye once he finished his sentence.

"Yeah! I actually knew about it a few weeks ago. Why don't you ever try to enter one of those things, Mr. Haitz?"

"Are you kidding me? I couldn't leave everything behind to enter one of those. It takes a lot of commitment, and it's not guaranteed that you'd even win. Besides, I have a family that needs me." Once Haitz finished speaking, Peter thought about his own family. He wondered what it felt like to have a family that actually needed you. What it felt like to have a family that wanted you to be there in their lives. It was upon that thought that he realized he'd been talking awhile and would be late getting home.

"Damn, I have to run. Thanks again, Mr. Haitz! I'll see you soon!" He barely gave his mentor a chance to respond, for he was dashing out of the door with surprising speed.

"Hey, be careful!" he yelled out to his student. About fifteen minutes later, Peter was approaching his driveway. Doing his best to slow his breathing, he regained his composure and walked through the front door. As soon as he walked in, his father was sitting on the couch waiting for him.

"Where the fuck have you been?" said the slightly overweight man. Peter swallowed hard, fear settling deep inside his stomach like no kick ever could.

"I missed the bus, so I had to walk home." he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "Where's mom?"

"I can tell you where she's not. The kitchen. Bitch has been gone all day and I haven't had dinner. Wait till she gets home, I swear to god I'll-"

"I'll make dinner, dad. Don't worry about it." Peter interrupted. He knew whenever his mother wasn't home, it was because his parents had gotten into a fight. Sure enough, as he walked into the kitchen, there was a broken glass on the floor. Sighing to himself, he knelt down and began to clean up the pieces.

"While you're at it, I need you to go get me another six-pack." said his father.

"Dad, we go through this every other day. I can't buy you alcohol, I'm not twenty-one yet."

"Hmph, you're just as useless as your mother. When are you going to be something?" he retorted.

"Don't worry, I'll be something soon." Peter did his best to ignore his father and make dinner, despite the fact that his old man was screaming at the television now. An hour later, the front door opened and his mother walked in. Her face was tear stained and her eyes worn.

"Hi mom." said Peter. He'd seen this sight so often that it barely even phased him anymore. She hadn't a chance to speak before his father was in her face, yelling at her for taking off again. If there was one thing Peter learned, it was to mind his own business. He served both his mother and father a plate of food and walked towards his room. Before he could make it there, a plastic cup hit him in the side of the head. Shocked, he turned around to see his father. He had thrown the cup at his mother but missed. Immediately, Peter grabbed his mother and motioned for her to go to her bedroom.

"Just stay in here, mom. Wait until he sobers up." he told her as he closed the door, hearing the lock click quickly thereafter. With his wife no longer there to blame, Peter's father turned on him.

"You fucking faggot!" he yelled as he threw him to the ground and kicked him in the ribs, twice. Rising to his feet, Peter avoided another attack and locked himself in his own room. Holding his ribs, he breathed heavily and held back tears. After a minute or two of listening to his father pound on the door, he shook himself out of it. He refused to let this man make him cry. He told himself that those days were over, and that his father wasn't worth it. Instead, he sat at his desk and pulled out his laptop.

Eventually, his father stopped hitting the door and passed out on the couch. It was then that Peter was able to use the silence to do his homework. Something was wrong however. He found himself unable to concentrate on his homework. One thought kept coming into his mind. He remembered Heihachi Mishima's lecture about the future, about how one must take his own initiative to change what they didn't like about their lives. He opened a new page on his laptop and began researching the next King of Iron Fist Tournament.

_ 'You want me to be something, dad? I'll show you something alright'._ he thought to himself. What started out as an idea of rebellious defiance then became an actual idea that represented freedom. If he could just get into this tournament, he could prove to his father that he was more than just a punching bag. He could prove that he had worth and show him that he was stronger than he thought. According to the information he'd received online, Heihachi was going to be promoting the tournament at a local park the next day. Nervous but somewhat determined and excited, Peter turned off his light and laid down in his bed with a hopeful smile on his face. Tomorrow would be a better day, he was just sure of it.


End file.
